


Apple of Mine Eye

by parsley_sage_rosemary_and_thyme4tea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cedric lives!AU, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Multi, Post-Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsley_sage_rosemary_and_thyme4tea/pseuds/parsley_sage_rosemary_and_thyme4tea
Summary: Harry has had a Chocolate Frog card made of him and his partners Cho and Cedric are throwing a party to celebrate. Neville learns in the invitation he receives that Draco has come to live with them, and is intrigued.Friendship. Growth. New horizons.





	Apple of Mine Eye

It was a Saturday afternoon in late September, and Neville was behind the counter of the Hog’s Head, handing change to a customer along with their drink. The bar rarely got very crowded - there were currently only three patrons - so the job did not require much concentration, and Neville had ample opportunities for his mind to wander. At the moment he was thinking intently of the friends that he would be seeing in a couple hours. Neville didn’t go to many social functions, and the only friends he was keeping in close touch with were Luna and Ginny, as it had been mainly their company he'd shared during the times he’d not been on his own the previous year. Many of the members of their year, and almost everyone from the D.A., had returned to Hogwarts to properly complete a final year of education the year after the war ended. Many did so out of the practical necessity of needing to fulfill certain requirements for various avenues of employment, but for most it was additionally therapeutic to watch the sanctuary which had been violently transformed from within and without being restored to a place where people could feel at home. During the war, Neville had discovered within himself a deep sense of loyalty and protection towards the students, faculty, and overall embodiment of Hogwarts. He felt strongly connected to the place and wanted to come home to the castle for as much of his life as possible. So, after Neville’s eighth year, he began apprenticing under Professor Sprout during the week, helping her to run the greenhouses, studying and experimenting with the many varieties of plants. He hoped to eventually teach at Hogwarts, and thought, after a year of apprenticing, he might find some place where he could be paid to conduct experiments on plants, helping to discover various new applications, until Professor Sprout retired, at which point he’d try to take up the mantle of Herbology professor at Hogwarts. 

Neville was currently supporting himself by working for Aberforth on the weekends at the Hog’s Head, cleaning and alternating shifts with the old man for tending the bar. He was saving up so he could afford to move into a place of his own. He was well aware that he’d be able to make more money if he worked at any of Hogsmead’s numerous other establishments that were more heavily frequented, but he felt compelled to try and repay Aberforth for all the help he’d provided them during the war. Aberforth had given Neville the incredibly generous offer of free room and board when he had confessed to not having a place to stay. Neville had insisted on paying for his own food, and they’d arrived at a mutually agreeable arrangement whereby Neville shared Aberforth’s small flat above the pub and paid for his food; though as his wages came out of the revenue generated by the pub, which would otherwise all go to Aberforth, he felt somewhat guilty, and tried to save the majority of his earnings so he could move out as soon as possible and give Aberforth his life back. Though, he could tell the old man appreciated his company. Neville had realised within a short period of time working for him that Aberforth was, although he’d never admit it, rather lonely. He was similar to Neville in that he largely kept to himself. He wasn’t too inclined to talk without prompting, and Neville didn’t push him to share any details about his life that he would rather keep private. After a time they developed a comfortable, if somewhat quiet, rapport with each other. Neville helped tend to the goats in the pen behind the pub and they ate dinner together most nights. All in all, it wasn't a bad set of circumstances, but Neville was beginning to desire a more active social life, and so was looking forward to the celebration later that afternoon. Neville had received a letter from Harry inviting him to a party that Harry, Cho, Cedric, and Draco were throwing at the house that they were sharing. They were throwing the party in celebration of the fact that Harry had recently received the honour of having a Chocolate Frog card made of him, which was going to go into circulation next month. Harry said in the letter that they had also invited Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Dean, and Seamus, and Neville was glad for the chance to see all of them again so soon after the birthday celebration that Cho and Cedric had thrown for him and Harry (which had also served as a housewarming party) two months prior. He’d been surprised to learn from the letter that Draco had joined Harry, Cho and Cedric at the house the previous month. He wasn’t sure what to make of it; he frankly had a hard time imagining Draco getting along very well with any of them, though Neville had noticed Harry and Draco in each other’s company increasingly during their eighth year, so he supposed they were friends now. Draco had certainly stopped bullying people as far as Neville had been able to tell. He had become a mostly silent presence in classes - not that he’d been a very active participant to begin with. Still. It was strange to think about. But Neville wanted the best for all of them, Draco included, and he hoped that Draco really had changed to the extent that he seemed to have done. Neville looked at the circular wooden clock on the wall of the pub. It was 4:19. The party was scheduled to start at 5:00. Neville blew out a breath. Time to get ready, then.

*~*~*

Twenty minutes later, Neville had finished combing his hair and was appraising his appearance in the dingy mirror of the tiny bathroom above the pub. Harry’s letter had said to dress casually, but as it was a party Neville wanted to look nice. He had decided to don a dark green button-down that he felt complemented his chestnut complexion, and jeans. Neville liked to wear green; it was his favorite colour, and it brought out the green rim around his otherwise mostly brown irises. He was quite fond of his eye colour. He had spent time as a child examining his eyes for long periods, pretending that they were a portal to another world where plants ruled, imagining himself venturing there and living among the foliage, growing wild and free. Neville had often fantasised about escaping the close and critical care of his grandmother in the first ten years of his life. When he finally went to Hogwarts, he made up his mind that he wouldn’t go back to living with her after he’d graduated. She wrote to him after the war, telling him that he had made her proud, that he was a man now, and she wished him the best. Neville had understood that she was releasing him, giving him permission to begin a life on his own, and he was relieved and grateful. He still wrote to her occasionally, telling her about the plants that he was studying, and received letters enquiring after his love life; was there a girlfriend in the picture? Neville cringed and replayed his guilt for the thousandth time over not having come out to his grandmother. He might have done so years ago, had he not been possessed by the conviction that she would disapprove, or at least be disappointed. Very little he did failed to elicit anything other than disappointment in her, it seemed. Pureblood families, even those who had more understanding views of magical and non-magical courtship, tended to be more conservative when it came to be between individuals of the same sex. He supposed he’d tell her if ever he became involved with someone; which, to Neville’s less than optimistic mind, was unlikely to happen any time soon. The clientele of the Hog’s Head, when they were human, were mostly middle aged or older, so Neville didn’t have many opportunities to meet potential partners. He was not, in any case, inclined to go out of his way to try and find someone to date - he had a hard enough time getting out to spend time with his friends.

*~*~*

Neville twisted into the air, disappearing with a _pop_ and rematerializing in front of a door decorated with a crest which bore two large, overlapping capital T’s painted gold. The crest represented the Quidditch team (the Tutshill Tornados) for which Cho and Cedric played, in the positions of Chaser and Keeper, respectively. Only friends of the home’s residence were aware of the fact that the T’s held a secondary significance as well. Cho, Cedric and Harry had decided to call their new home the Triwizard Townhouse when they had settled into it. Neville wondered uneasily how Draco was fitting in - if he was disrupting their dynamic, which many circumstances had already caused to be more disjointed than any of them had preferred. They had such a wonderful relationship, and Neville had been so happy when they were finally able to move in together. Now, after only three months at the house, Draco had joined them. Neville didn’t know what to think. Had Draco been cut off from his family? Playing Quidditch professionally, Cho and Cedric were more than able to support the four of them financially. And Harry had a job now as well; he and Hermione had recently started working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Neville didn’t know much about the kinds of things they were doing, though from what they had said at the July party, they were going through training and had been received very warmly when they first arrived. They enjoyed getting to see Mr. Weasley and Percy from time to time, and Neville gathered they found it an exciting and frustrating challenge to be at the Ministry in its shaky post-war foundations. Corruption was still far too powerful a force in its workings, but there was a definite shift in management that aimed to get the Ministry onto a better path. 

Neville shook himself from his musings and walked up to the front door and knocked, clutching the houseplant which he hoped would feel at home in the Triwizard Townhouse. Cedric answered the door and greeted Neville heartily, stepping aside to let him pass into the sitting room. 

“Neville! It’s so good to see you! And what a beautiful plant!”

Neville smiled, looking down at it. It _was_ beautiful, and Neville knew that it’s beauty would only increase as it grew. It was still a sapling, it’s light brown stems - thin and flecked with silver - sporting far fewer of the delicate flowers that would increase in number the more it grew. The stems, arranged in winding spirals, would grow longer and form neater coils with each month, provided with the fortifying effects of moonlight.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s an Inlustris argenteus; the common name is moon dust vine. It grows off of moonlight, and the herbologist who bred it developed spells that allow you to direct its growth. It’ll grow in a spiral without alternative direction, and it doesn’t grow very fast or thick so it’s very easy to manage. I wrote down the incantations to use for directing its growth, as well as other notes for how best to care for it,” Neville added, holding out a card in his other hand.

“Thank you so much; it’ll make a wonderful addition to our home. Speaking of plants, I wonder if I could ask your professional opinion of something?”

“Oh! Sure!” Neville was flattered and intrigued.

“Great - do you want to set it down first?” Cedric asked, gesturing to the potted vine.

“Yeah, okay,” Neville reluctantly agreed, a bit sad to part with it, but consoling himself with the reminder that he would see it again.

Cedric led the way down a hallway to the left of the sitting room and into the first of two adjoining bedrooms. On Neville’s previous visit, one of them had been a guest bedroom. Now they were evidently both in use, as the room in which they were currently standing contained only two beds. The beds were approximately the same distance apart as the beds in the boys’ dormitory at Hogwarts had been, and were outfitted with green comforters. In between the beds was a wooden dresser upon which Harry’s dragonet, Hide, lay curled up on something small and circular. Neville smiled as he recalled the hours of increasingly drunken revelry that had transpired at the July party, during which they had collectively decided upon names for both Harry’s and Cedric’s dragonets. Cho had coined this term, declaring emphatically (with a couple shots of firewisky in her) that dragon models were a form of imitation life, and as such, deserved to have a name which reflected their more-than-object status. Harry had agreed, adding that dragonets was quicker and easier to say than dragon model anyway. 

After much deliberation and many silly suggestions, they had settled on Hide for Harry’s and Seek for Cedric’s. They had decided early on that they wanted the Hungarian Horntail dragonet to have a name beginning with H and the Swedish Short-Snout dragonet to have one beginning with S. They also ideally wanted two names that complimented each other. When they finally hit on Hide and Seek, they felt it was perfect, due to Hide’s tendency to hide away in obscure places, along with the fact that dragons have hides. Seek was a testament to their owners all having been Seekers at Hogwarts. They had been delighted by the names and thought them terribly clever at the time of conceiving them. The next day, they seemed less clever but still delightful, and so the names had stuck.

  
Neville looked at the beds and wondered whose room they were in, his unasked question answered by Cedric as he said, “Harry and Draco share this room now, and Cho and I share the next one,” pointing to the doorway, through which Neville could hear mingling voices.

“You can set it down on the dresser there and let’s go to the garden - we won’t be too long, and then we can join the others.” 

Neville nodded, placing the pot on the dresser gently so as not to disturb Hide, then followed Cedric back out of the bedroom, through the sitting room, into the kitchen, and finally out a door and into the back yard, which, despite Cedric’s words, was actually more of an expanse of grass than a garden. There were three silver Quidditch hoops, not quite as tall as those on the pitch at Hogwarts, but with the same circumference and diameters. Cho, Cedric and Harry had talked about how much they enjoyed throwing a Quaffle around, each of them taking turns playing Keeper and Chasers. They didn’t have any of the other balls, as it would be too much of a hassle trying to prevent them from veering off the property. There were all sorts of protective enchantments securing the boundaries, ensuring nothing could come in without any of the residents’ express permission, but there was nothing preventing anything already within the boundaries from leaving them. 

Neville wondered if Draco had joined them in this activity, or if he’d consider it beneath him to play on such a rudimentary pitch.

“Are you still playing with the Quaffle here now that the training season’s begun?” Neville asked, hoping to get an answer to what he was actually curious about.

“Ha, yeah, not so much now. The four of us played some last month, and Harry and Draco carried on playing without Cho and me after we started getting too tired from practices.”

Neville nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of Draco playing Quidditch alone with Harry...both of them sweating in the heat...and found his brain short-circuiting. He cleared his throat, cheeks burning, and anxiously changed the subject.

“So, uh, you wanted my professional opinion about something?”

Cedric pointed to four patches on the lawn in which the dirt had been overturned. 

“Last week we planted apple seeds, four different kinds, and I was wondering if you’d have any advice for how best to tend to them and ensure they grow healthily.” 

Neville smiled in delight and replied, “Oh, how nice! A little orchard will be a wonderful addition to the place! Well, I’m no expert on apple trees in particular, but I do know that they take quite a while to grow; it can take a standard apple tree anywhere from six to ten years before you’ll get fruit without the aid of magic. Using magical fertilisers, you can get apples starting around the third year of growth. I’d say keep them well watered - but you want to make sure you’re not overwatering them - the soil should be kept relatively moist. What a great idea to plant apple trees…you said four different kinds? I assume you each chose your favourite variety?” 

“Yeah, we did! I was honestly pretty surprised that none of us chose the same type of apple but I think it’s nice that we’ll each have our own tree. And I agree, it was a wonderful idea - one of Draco’s best, I think.”

“Wha-the trees were Draco’s idea?” Neville asked, astounded. 

“Yes; he suggested it a couple weeks after he came here.” Cedric turned to look behind him to check they were still alone and added in a lower tone, “I think he wanted a way of showing us his commitment to making his home here. Putting down roots, as it were.” Cedric smiled and Neville could detect no ill-bearing toward Draco in him.

“It must have been…I mean, it can’t be the easiest thing…well, I-you know, the three of you…” Neville fumbled awkwardly for the right words, wanting to ask but not knowing how.

Cedric nodded understandingly and admitted, “Cho and I had really been looking forward to having Harry join us, and we were disappointed that we hadn’t had the place to ourselves for very long…plus, we didn’t have the best opinion of Draco at that point. We weren’t keen on having a former Death Eater live with us, but Harry convinced us we could trust him.” 

Cedric exhaled softly through his nose, a short sigh, and continued, “Well, we trusted Harry anyway, and we trusted his judgement, and he knows Draco better than either of us, especially since they got closer last year-”

“I know!” The words startled from Neville’s mouth before he could stop them and he felt his face heat up with embarrassment at his outburst. Fumblingly, he tried to say more, as an explanation for the unexpected interruption; to make it seem like he’d begun with the intention of contributing something more to the conversation, “I know, I-saw them-together…a lot.” He cringed inwardly and hoped it wasn’t obvious from his words what a close and intent watch he’d kept on the two of them the previous year. Cedric nodded thoughtfully, gazing above Neville’s head at the yard, and Neville was grateful not to have to maintain eye contact. 

“And then, when Draco arrived, it was obvious he felt like an intruder, which,” Cedric chuckled guiltily, “I will say, that helped me not mind his coming as much. We thought about changing the name - you know, Triwizard Townhouse - because it was conceived as a testament to the year the three of us started getting close, and that obviously didn’t include him, but then Cho pointed out that Draco made the name even more fitting, as the Triwizard Tournament when we knew it had four champions instead of three. That helped put Draco more at ease, and it made me realise that it could be alright, him staying with us.”

Cedric concluded, in a voice of calm assuredness, “He wants to make a fresh start, and I’m glad we can be a family, for however long he needs us to be that for him.”

Neville nodded, lost for words. He thought it was very decent of Cedric and Cho to have accepted Draco into their fold for an indefinite period of time; not to mention Harry, for seemingly inviting him in the first place. Neville wondered if Cedric had any private hopes, or even expectations for when Draco might eventually leave. He wondered, too if Draco had a set timeline for his stay, or if he was planning to remain there until he found somewhere else he’d rather be. It seemed Draco had changed more than Neville had imagined. Neville found himself wanting to get to know this new Draco who could make a home with Harry, Cho, and Cedric. 

Muted laughter and conversation floated out to them from the house and Cedric said, with a gesture to the kitchen, “Shall we join the others?” Neville smiled at him and nodded. 

“Thanks for telling me about the orchard.” He hesitated, then, not knowing exactly why he was saying it, added, “I’d love to follow the trees’ progress over time, so don’t be surprised if you start seeing more of me.” 

“We’d be delighted! Of course, I can’t speak for the others, but you are always welcome at the Triwizard Townhouse, Neville.” 

Cedric was lit brilliantly from behind, the afternoon sun bathing his toffee skin and caramel sweater in a warm light. “Hufflepuff’s golden boy,” Neville thought fondly. Cedric’s grey eyes were like billowing clouds, providing shade on a hot summer’s day. Neville felt dazed, but in a comfortable sort of way - Cedric’s company gently dazzling his senses and making him feel light and heavy at the same time, heady but solid. He smiled to himself as he reflected that spending time with Cedric gave him many of the same sensations he associated with drinking Butterbeer.

They walked back through the kitchen where they met Dean and Seamus, who were entering from the sitting room, Seamus holding a bottle of firewisky.

“Neville! Mate! And Cedric, how’ve you been?” 

There was a round of hugging as they all greeted each other. Dean was wearing a maroon button-up and Seamus, who appeared more freckled than the last time Neville had seen him, wore a bright red T-shirt displaying the logo of a football team that Neville was unfamiliar with. 

“I told Dean we should wear red to bring some Gryffindor pride to this party,” Seamus remarked, and Neville felt suddenly self-conscious about his green shirt, and then immediately ridiculous for feeling self-conscious. 

“What team is that, Seamus?” Cedric asked, pointing to the shirt. 

“Oh, it’s the junior league team that I’m coaching; Muggle, you know, though one of the parents is a wizard, and he’s helped me out a couple times when I was confused about some of the things the kids were talking about. It’s great, I really get a kick out of it,” he added, grinning at Dean who groaned good-naturedly at the pun and shook his head, smiling.

“I didn’t know you were coaching football!” Neville exclaimed, surprised. He’d known Dean was a football fan; he hadn’t realised Seamus was too.

“Yeah, I just started. Dean played for the team when he was ten, so the old coach knew him, and when Dean heard that he was retiring, he went and asked ‘round, and basically got me the job.” 

“You got the job fair and square. Everyone loves you; you’re very charming,” Dean said, nudging Seamus’s shoulder with his own playfully. Seamus laughed. 

“Well, the kids certainly like me, though that might have to do with my being the youngest coach they’ve seen by a mile.”

Luna drifted into the kitchen, wearing a light purple dress that had a graceful, flowing quality to it. 

“Hello, Dean! Hello Seamus! Did you just arrive?” Luna said.

“Hi Luna!” Dean greeted her with a smile and a hug.

“Did I hear my second-favourite artist and my favourite coach of a junior football team are here?” Ginny called from the sitting room and emerged, grinning widely at them as she entered.

She hugged Dean and Seamus, then went over to join Luna, who had come to lean against the counter next to Neville.

“And I mustn’t neglect my favourite artist,” she added, kissing Luna and hoisting herself up to sit on the counter beside her. She was looking very cool in a light jean jacket and white T-shirt tucked into dark jeans.

“It seems that the party has moved into the kitchen.” Cho’s voice was heard along with several footsteps and then she, Harry, and Draco entered the room, which had become rather crowded.

Cho and Harry moved farther into the throng of people to hug and greet the newcomers. Cho was dressed in a lovely navy blue dress scattered with small golden stars. Harry was wearing a shirt so light pink it looked almost white. Draco leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed loosely. He was less pale than Neville could ever remember seeing him, which he supposed must have come out of his playing Quidditch with Harry so often that summer. His shirt was a dark, rich purple that he wore tucked into black trousers. Neville noted that Draco was the only one there wearing trousers that weren't jeans. Cedric made his way from the far end of the room, where he’d been standing by the door that led out onto the garden, and came to stand next to Draco. He clapped a hand to Draco’s shoulder briefly, and Neville thought he detected a slight relaxing of Draco’s frame as the flicker of a smile crossed his face. He turned his head and Neville sucked in a breath as he saw that Draco was wearing mascara, his grey eyes stunningly accentuated. Neville stared. He couldn’t help himself. He was entirely unprepared for how striking Draco’s appearance was.

Luna leaned gently into Neville’s side and he jumped slightly, shifting to smile distractedly at her. Her face was awash in a blue glow and, turning around, Neville saw what was casting the light. Above the sink there was a circular window that Neville couldn’t see how he had missed before. It was a new addition to the house; at least, it hadn’t been there the last time Neville visited. It had beautifully blown stained glass that was split into four equal quadrants, each one separated by beams of light wood. The quadrants were red, green, blue, and yellow - the locations of the colours corresponding to those on the Hogwarts crest. The late afternoon sun shining through the window bathed the kitchen in a cosy patchwork of light.

“I’d like to show you the lamp I made for the Triwizard Townhouse; would you like to see it?” Luna asked Neville, and he tore his eyes away from the magnificent panes of glass.

“Yes, very much,” Neville replied, eager to leave the crowded kitchen.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Luna said, leading him out of the kitchen, passing through the first bedroom and into the adjoining one, which contained two beds with blue comforters. Hovering near the center of the ceiling was a rather busy contraption that Neville had to examine for several seconds before he could process what it consisted of. It appeared to be made of translucent, yet sturdy paper, configured into many forms. The topmost was in the shape of a Quidditch bat. It was rotating clockwise horizontally in midair, while beneath it, a paper Quaffle, emitting a yellow glow, rotated counterclockwise. Underneath the glowing Quaffle were four paper Golden Snitches flying clockwise in a wobbly circle, each one trailing the same distance away from the next. The light from the Quaffle reflected off their flittering wings, which, Neville noticed upon closer examination, were tinted a different colour for each Snitch.

“Wow. That’s amazing, Luna!”

“Thank you, Neville,” she replied, beaming. 

“The Quaffle can glow in different colours; you just tap it with a wand and it’ll change. I thought they’d appreciate something that honoured their Quidditch careers, so I put a Keeper’s bat for Cedric, a Quaffle for Cho, and Snitches for all three of them. I added the fourth Snitch after I got the invitation to this party and learned that Draco is living here now. That’s when I had the idea to colour the wings of the Snitches according to each of their Houses.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Neville appreciatively. 

“Thank you. How is Aberforth doing?”

“He’s good, I think. He doesn’t say much most of the time, but I think he’s alright.”

“And how are you, Neville?”

Neville started to give his automatic response of, “I’m fine”, but hesitated at the sincerity of Luna’s voice and her gently probing gaze. Luna wasn’t looking for a standard answer. She wanted a truthful one. 

“I…I’m, not sure,” Neville said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. He shut his eyes tightly, overwhelmed by the many unexamined emotions that suddenly rose within him. Opening his eyes he saw Luna’s proffered hand, and took it, breathing deeply as she squeezed his reassuringly. 

“I’m glad to be your friend, Neville,” Luna said, and Neville laughed shakily, marveling at her ability to say things which were always so helpful.

“I’m glad to be your friend, too, Luna,” Neville replied, his voice steadier. 

“And Ginny’s. You both mean so much to me.”

Neville knew Luna understood just how much without him saying. It often seemed as though she understood how he was feeling better than he did himself. Neville smiled gratefully at her and asked, “How’s the shop coming along; are you getting more customers?”

“Oh, yes, all the time. We’ve been looking for other artists who would be willing to contribute their skills so we can have more varied art styles to choose from on the different cards, as Dean and I have been creating all the designs that we’ve been using so far. Ginny’s inventing new charms that add all sorts of exciting effects that cards in other places don’t have and she’s so good at casting them they last longer than what most people are used to.”

Luna smiled proudly and Neville squeezed her hand, saying as he did so, “You’re both so talented; I’m glad your work is being appreciated. I doubt it’ll be long before Sun and Moon Greetings becomes the most popular magical card shop in all of Britain!”

Luna laughed and the doorbell sounded from the sitting room. Smiling at one another, they joined the rest of the party in greeting Hermione and Ron, who had just arrived.

Hermione, dressed in a blouse the colour of fresh parchment that beautifully complimented her dark brown skin, hugged Harry while Ron, who was wearing a shirt the same shade of magenta as the robes he wore at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, showed the bag he was carrying to be filled with Chocolate Frogs.

“I figured if we were going to be talking about them so much, people would get in the mood to eat them,” he said by way of greeting, giving Harry a one-armed hug.

“And by people, he means him,” Hermione said teasingly.

“Ah, cheers, mate, I was hoping there’d be some!” 

Seamus joyously grabbed two Frogs from the box and handed one to Dean. Luna asked Neville if he felt strange eating Chocolate Frogs.

“Do these remind you of Trevor?” 

Neville chuckled and said, “If they didn’t move around so much, I might like to eat them, but, yeah, they’re not the most appetising for me. The colouring helps me not mind others eating them - I don’t know of any frogs that have eyes the same exact same shade as the rest of the body, not to mention a uniform shade throughout. It also helps that they don’t croak.” 

“I agree, that would be too realistic,” said Hermione. 

“What about Peppermint Toads? There’s probably some red and white frogs out there,” Ron suggested. 

“Yeah, there are!” said Neville happily. “There’s actually multiple types of poison dart frog that are red and white! I’ve always worried that someone might attempt a poisoning by giving someone an actual frog, charmed to have the same texture as Peppermint Toads. Although not all poison dart frogs are lethally venomous for humans, so it might just give them a bad reaction.” 

“Don’t give him ideas for the shop!” Hermione said, laughing. 

“What're you talking about? Give me all the ideas for the shop!” Ron exclaimed, grinning, his eyes glinting. 

Turning to them, Cedric asked, “Do you like all cold-blooded creatures, Neville, or do you just have a particular fondness for frogs and toads?” 

The group’s attention switched to Hermione as she began expounding on the misconceptions associated with the terms cold-blooded and warm-blooded, and Neville felt Draco, who was sitting to his left, shift slightly toward him. The next moment he said in a low voice, “How do you feel about snakes?” 

It was quiet enough that no one else heard. Neville looked at Draco and saw that he had an odd expression on his face. It was part challenging, part nervous, and part abashed. Neville discerned the suggestions hidden within the question - _how do you feel about Slytherins_? _How do you feel about me, given that I was a part of Voldemort’s following, Voldemort, whose snake you killed_? 

Neville replied quietly, “Let’s talk later.” 

Draco nodded, and Neville returned his attention to the group to discover Cedric looking at him expectantly. He paused a moment to remember what the question had been, and then answered, “Oh, yeah...um, well I do like toads and frogs the best, but salamanders are great too-” 

“I love fire salamanders,” Luna interjected. “They’re yellow and black-” 

“Hufflepuff salamanders!” Dean shouted gleefully, and Cedric laughed and high-fived him. 

“And there are stories of them withstanding fire.” 

“I don’t know that those accounts-” Hermione faltered slightly at the light warning look Ginny gave her. “-are necessarily the most accurate…” 

“I still like the stories,” said Luna serenely. 

“Man, it’d be cool if there were frogs that could withstand fire. Fire frogs! Imagine how cool that’d be!” Seamus exclaimed.

*~*~*

As the conversation turned to a passionate discussion of mythical amphibian morphology, Draco got up, glancing at Neville in a way that let him know he wanted that ‘later’ conversation to happen now, and left the room. Neville stood up shortly after and walked the other direction into the kitchen, proceeding out the door and into the yard so no one would hear him Apparate into the bedroom at the other end of the house. He reappeared in the first of the two bedrooms, which he’d started calling ‘The Green Room’ in his mind, as he hoped doing so would somehow enable him to ignore the complicated, churning emotions associated with how he actually thought of it: ‘ **The Bedroom That Draco and Harry Share** ’. Neville was very determinedly _not_ wondering why Harry had chosen a green comforter for his bed. There was probably a perfectly simple explanation, entirely devoid of symbolic significance. Maybe his favourite colour was green! (Maybe he was hoping they’d bring out his eyes, and that Draco would marvel at their beauty...) “No,” his conscience broke in cheekily. “It’s you who wants that.” Neville sucked in a breath, clenched his fists, and entered the room.

Draco was sitting on the bed which was up against the right wall of the room. Neville found himself unwilling to make eye contact just yet, and looked instead at the dresser in between the two beds. Hide was exploring the moon dust vine and Neville was able to see the round item that the dragonet had been covering earlier. It was a pin, one that Neville recognised from his fourth year. It stated in bold print, ‘SUPPORT **CEDRIC DIGGORY** — THE **REAL** HOGWARTS CHAMPION!’ 

Seeing the direction of Neville’s gaze, Draco said, “Cho once flashed the ‘POTTER STINKS’ side at Harry when she wanted him to have a shower.” 

Draco smiled ruefully, examining his hands in his lap. 

“I was such a prat. Ha. That’s hardly a harsh enough word for what I was.” 

He looked up at Neville and Neville saw that his eyes were shining. 

“I’m…so sorry. For everything,” he said in a hoarse whisper. 

Neville wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t expected Draco to be so forthcoming, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting an apology. He hadn’t really known what to expect. Draco renewed his examination of his hands, for which Neville was grateful, as eye contact would have made it much more difficult for him to think clearly. 

He considered Draco’s words. He didn’t know what Draco’s experience had been like among the Death Eaters. Neville wasn’t sure that it was possible for someone who willingly became a Death Eater to be a good person. Of course, he had no idea how willing Draco had been in joining those ranks. Snape had been a Death Eater, and no matter what Harry had said about him loving his mother, Neville knew Snape to be a horrible person. Love did not make people treat others with such vicious cruelty. Draco had been a persistent bully, it was true; but Neville could see now that much of that had likely come from a place of fear, a lack of courage to defy the systems which were supporting him. His upbringing had taught him to be derisive towards those perceived to be of lower status, but Neville knew that he must have come around to new perspectives since. He was living with Harry, Cho, and Cedric, after all, none of whom were Slytherins, and who had all actively fought against Voldemort’s regime. 

Neville became aware of the stretching silence and searched for something to say. Draco was still avoiding his gaze, which continued to be helpful, especially as standing in front of Draco while he sat on the bed made Neville feel uncomfortably as though he had some power leveraged over him. Neville considered sitting down on the other bed, but felt that was too far away for this conversation, and he still hadn’t gotten the knack of magicking chairs out of thin air.

After a while he felt he should break the silence and offered, “Look, Draco…I…appreciate the apology. As long as you’ve stopped acting like a prat and no longer run with the Death Eaters, well…I, for one, forgive you.” 

Neville probed his feelings to see if this was true, and found that it was. He did forgive Draco. It had only been a year since the war ended but Neville could see that Draco, whom he admittedly had not known very well in the first place, had changed significantly, and seemed genuinely intent on turning over a new leaf. All the various negative things that Neville couldn’t help but associate with Draco - his aunt, who had tortured Neville’s parents to insanity - Nagini, whom Neville had killed - Potions classes, during which Neville had been a consistent target of abuse and Draco a consistent target of praise - none of that, Neville reflected, was Draco’s fault. 

“Let me make amends. Please,” Draco said suddenly, startling Neville out of his reverie. 

“That’s not necessary,” Neville began, but Draco charged on. 

“We can help each other, then.” 

Neville considered for a moment. 

“Keep talking.” 

Looking reassured, Draco elaborated, “You’ve been working towards a teaching certification for Herbology. Harry told me,” he added in response to Neville’s surprised look. “I’m working towards certification to teach Potions. There are likely many professional connections that each of us have made or will make that could be potentially useful for the other as well. And if there are any plants you want to keep but don’t have room for above the Hog’s Head, you could use the garden here. There’s plenty of space.” 

“Harry, Cho, and Cedric wouldn’t mind?” Neville asked, somewhat reeling at the extent of Draco’s thoughtfulness. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” Draco said, waving away the suggestion. 

“Well! That sounds…nice. Alright then. It’s a deal.” He held out his hand to Draco who looked at it for a second then rose from the bed and shook it, looking squarely into Neville’s eyes. Neville looked directly back, feeling strangely as though it were a staring contest. For once, he found himself welcoming prolonged eye contact; he was captivated by Draco’s eyes, and wanted every excuse to look at them. They held that position for a long moment, then jumped and dropped their hands when Ginny’s voice called to them from down the hallway. 

“Neville! Draco! We’re just about to do something - I don’t know what, but our hosts say that everyone’s to participate!” She walked through the doorway and, seeing them, beckoned with her arm.

“Ah, there you are! Come on, then.” 

Draco nodded and exited swiftly without looking at either of them. Neville grinned at Ginny’s inquisitively quirked eyebrow. 

“Are you going to tell me what the two of you were discussing, or is none of my business? I quite hope it’s the former because I’m extremely curious.” 

“I’ll tell you later,” Neville promised her. He was already looking forward to confiding in her, though he intended to keep bits of it to himself. He hoped he would have more coherent feelings about the situation before speaking with her, but there was a good chance he’d work them out in the process of saying them aloud. He’d often found that to be the case. Neville felt that this might be a bit more of a sensitive matter though. Oh, well. He’d sort it when the time came. For now he was going to savour the novel sensation of actually enjoying himself at a party.

*~*~*

“Is everybody here? All right. As you all know, we’ve held this party in order to honour the occasion of Harry’s first Chocolate Frog card,” Cho began but was interrupted by Harry saying, “First?” 

“Well, yes, I’m sure they’ll make new ones with more updated information after you’ve started teaching at Hogwarts - in an official capacity, that is; you’ve already taught at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, smiling broadly. 

“We should all get each one that comes out - the whole set will probably be worth loads when we’re old!” Seamus said excitedly. 

“Are you planning on writing to the manufacturers and requesting a direct delivery, or should I expect to see far more Chocolate Frogs in the near future?” an amused Dean asked his boyfriend. 

“Oh. Right. Well, there could be a special Quidditch edition of Harry’s card that’s sold with the other Quidditch cards! It could say stuff like, _Played as Seeker on a Hogwarts’ Quidditch team at age eleven, the first to do so in a century; Competed against legendary Seeker Victor Krum in the 1994 Triwizard Tournament held at Hogwarts; Caught the Snitch in his mouth in the first match he played; Captained the 1996 Gryffindor Quidditch team; Attended the 422nd annual Quidditch World Cup; First racing broom: Nimbus Two Thousand; Second racing broom: Firebolt_ \- Anything I forgot, Harry?” 

“You’re adorable,” laughed Dean, pulling Seamus into a brief but sound kiss. “And a genius. I think you’re absolutely right, they’ll definitely try to make as many versions of this card that they can, because there’s a huge market for it. And we’ll get every single one.” 

Ginny cleared her throat loudly. 

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like to hear what Cho has to say.” 

Cho smiled at her and continued. 

“Well, we thought it would be fun if we all made cards - modeled after Chocolate Frog cards - for each other. I have a camera that we can use to take pictures for the cards and we can all choose someone else to make a card for. It can be a private present for them if you want to write something that you’d rather not share with the group, but it would also be nice to see the finished products afterwards. To start off it would probably work best if we paired up - that way everyone is guaranteed to have a card made for them - then if anyone wants to make more, they can.” 

“And the rule for Harry,” she added, smiling mischievously at him, "Is that he has to make one for all of us.” He grinned back at her as everyone broke into excited chatter in reaction to the announcement. 

“Are there any questions?” Cho asked the group. 

“Can we choose our partners for the initial pairing up?” Seamus asked.

“Of course!” laughed Cho. “And you can go anywhere on the property to make your cards, if you want privacy to write and take the photos,” she added. 

“Materials are all set up on this table; if there are no more questions, let’s get started!” 

As everyone crowded around the table, Neville caught sight of Draco looking at him and felt a slight swooping in his stomach. He had realised as Cho was talking that Draco was the only other person there who wasn’t a part of an implicit pair for this activity, and after the conversation they had just shared, the prospect of making each other cards felt intimidatingly intimate. He couldn’t very well refuse to participate, so he arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral smile as Draco approached him. 

“Shall we?” Draco asked, extending his arm towards the table. 

Neville nodded and they stepped up to it, both conscientiously avoiding eye contact with each other and everyone else perusing the craft supplies. There was parchment in many different colours, as well as quills and multicoloured inks, including some of the colour-changing variety. Draco selected a cream-coloured paper and Neville chose a dark green one of a similar hue as the comforter on Draco’s bed. Draco grabbed a pot of black ink and Neville, feeling flustered, distractedly took a bottle without really looking that turned out to contain an ink a sort of mustard yellow.

“Do you want to go back to the bedroom? We don’t have to be together when we make them, if you don’t want,” Neville said hurriedly, cringing inwardly at his own awkwardness. 

“No, I don’t mind being together. In the same room, I mean. The bedroom is a good idea, let’s go.” 

Draco turned on his heel and sped away, back towards the bedroom they had recently vacated. Neville smiled wanly. At least he wasn’t the only awkward one in this situation.

*~*~*

Neville walked to the room and found Harry sitting on the floor with scores of paper scattered in front of him, a bottle of ink beside him, and a quill held between his teeth. Draco had already sat down opposite him. They both looked up when Neville entered, and Harry took the quill out of his mouth to greet him. 

“Hey Neville! I’m glad you guys are here. After you finish your cards, do you think you could help me with mine? I’m not too creative about this kind of thing, and I think these should be special. I’ll do my own writing, obviously, but if either of you have any ideas for how to make them look interesting - the only thing I have so far is this colour-changing ink,” gesturing to the bottle with his quill as he spoke. 

“Why don’t you ask Luna or Ginny to help? Running that shop, they’re sure to be experts in this kind of magic,” Neville suggested. 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. 

“I dunno…they spend so much time making cards for other people, I don’t want to ask them to help me make cards that are meant for them.”

“Is it possible that you also don’t wish to let on just how utterly incompetent you are at simple embellishment charms?” Draco asked, smirking at Harry. 

“The performance of those charms is quite intricate, as you well know, Draco,” Harry retorted. “I’d like to see you make anything remotely impressive with your card.” 

“You will, I assure you,” Draco replied smoothly, standing up in one fluid motion and walking to a far corner of the room and sitting back down with his back to Harry and Neville. Harry shook his head, looking amused, and Neville bit his lip to keep from smiling. Harry jerked his head towards Draco, who had assumed an air of intense focus, and quirked an eyebrow at Neville, who couldn’t prevent the blush which flooded his face. Thankfully, Harry didn’t say anything, but simply returned to working on his many cards, and Neville fixed his attention on his own dark green parchment and yellow ink. He began to panic slightly as he found himself at a loss for what to write.

Chocolate Frog cards had biographies of the people they featured. Neville attempted to think of something positive to represent Draco’s life. Remembering Seamus’s comments, he thought, “ _Joined the Slytherin Quidditch team at age twelve, rode a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, played the position of Seeker. Skilled at concocting potions_.” He couldn’t think of anything else that would be suitable. Not knowing any spells for erasing ink, he was reluctant to start writing before knowing what exactly he intended to say. He squirmed uncomfortably on the floor and Harry looked up from his cards at him. Glancing at Draco, who was still sitting with his back to them, he suggested in a whisper, “If you drew something, that would take up space so you wouldn’t have to write as much.” Neville smiled weakly and whispered back his thanks. Putting effort into an illustration would make up for a lack of words extolling Draco’s admirable qualities, which was fortunate, as those predominantly occurring to Neville at the moment were of a variety which he hardly felt comfortable thinking about, let alone writing down. 

What did Draco appreciate that could be represented in a drawing? Potions? Well, a cauldron was relatively easy to draw, that was something. He thought about how Draco had had the idea to plant apple trees in the yard, about his desire to demonstrate a willingness to put down roots and establish a new life. To show his dedication and determination to turn over a new leaf and start anew. Neville found that he was very proud of Draco and how much he had grown. Suddenly it clicked. He would draw a cauldron with an apple tree sprouting out from it! That was simple, yet also specific enough to Draco’s interests to work quite well. Neville smiled broadly, then realised he would probably want to swap out his current paper and ink for some of different colours. He clambered to his feet, said, “I’ll be right back!” to Harry and Draco, who glanced at him as he hurried from the room clutching his ink and parchment. Returning to the table that bore the crafting supplies, Neville was relieved to see that there was still plenty of parchment and ink left. He swapped out his unused green paper for a standard cream-coloured one and selected a bottle of black ink, figuring he could add colour to his illustration later, and made his way back to the bedroom.

Neville reentered the room and noticed that Draco had left in his absence, the corner he had been occupying empty, save for his parchment, ink, and quill. Draco had left his parchment faced down; Neville could see the ink where it bled from the other side of the parchment and felt a thrill as he wondered what Draco was writing about-to- _for_ him. He shook his head imperceptibly and turned his attention to Harry, absently gazing in the direction of Hide, who was exploring the branches of the moon dust vine. The light pink of Harry’s shirt put Neville in mind of clouds steeped in a sunset. Neville smiled, reflecting that his attraction to Harry, which had once blazed within him, was now softer around the edges. Of course, his feelings for Harry had always been complicated.

Harry had told Neville after the war ended the full story of the prophecy which Neville had accidentally smashed in the Department of Mysteries. How Voldemort had heard the beginning of a prophecy and marked out a child for his enemy, (a child that might have been him, and Neville will always wonder, with horrified fascination, what might have happened if he had been the one marked for slaughter) a child who would destroy him, not because he had to, but because the world needed him to. But he hadn’t done it alone. No one could do that alone - that’s why so many died in the fight. 

Neville, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore - they’d all destroyed parts of Voldemort’s soul. Ginny had been possessed by Voldemort, Luna had been captured - they’d all been kept and held fast in a violently corrupt system. They had worked so hard, and lost so many, to finally win in the end. But Neville knew the fight wasn’t won. Not really. Voldemort may have been defeated, but there were always people intent upon corruption and violence, despite the fact that the world could run perfectly well without those tactics, and they never truly benefited anyone. Neville found himself thinking of the Malfoy family, wondering what they were like on their own, and what they might be like now that Voldemort was actually gone. Draco’s father was arrogant and prejudiced, and Neville had previously assumed the same to be true of Draco’s mother, but now he reconsidered. He didn’t know any of the Malfoys well, and if Draco could change as much as he’d seemingly done, then it wasn’t for Neville to assign judgment without all the facts. Neville shook his head, grimacing. Draco wasn’t the only one who had changed. Neville of the not-so-distant past wouldn’t dream of such forgiving views of the Malfoy family. 

“He wouldn’t dream about their gay heir, either,” Neville thought. 

“Gay. Ha! You wish!” his thoughts replied.

Screwing up his face and putting his head in his hands, he tried in vain to recall how he used to feel about Draco - to derail this train of thought into less dangerous territories.

“Come on, what _about_ Draco, huh? With his absurdly pointed face, and annoyingly sleek hair, I mean, really, only gits use so much product. It’d be much better if he let it hang naturally…I’d wonder what it’d be like to run my hands thr-NO!”

Neville groaned, rubbed his face vigorously, and tried to focus on Harry. 

“Harry’s hair is much nicer than Draco’s,” he thought firmly.

It was rather funny, really, how every hair on Draco’s head was always perfectly in place while Harry’s hair refused to be tamed no matter what anyone did to it. 

Harry leaned back to rest against the frame of his bed, and Neville smiled idly, remembering how Harry’s hair always managed to look even more unruly after a night’s sleep. He wondered whether, (he swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry) _Draco’s_ hair was disheveled in the mornings. Harry would know. He got to see Draco every day and every night. They’d know how the other slept - would wake if the other was having a nightmare. They shared such an intimate setting now. Neville wondered what they’d learn about each other and how they were finding the experience of living together.

Harry was still staring blankly in the space above the dresser, where Hide had curled around the branches of the moon dust vine. Neville cleared his throat softly and grinned at Harry as he came out of his daze to look toward him. Pointing to the dragonet, Neville commented, “I’m glad to know that Hide and Seek have the benefit of each other’s company now. Where did they go during…” He couldn’t bring himself to say “the war” - couldn’t bring himself to mention so casually the horrors of those experiences which were still so raw - all the people who had died…Neville closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and finished, “…two years ago?” Harry nodded in sombre acknowledgment and said, “I actually put Hide in the Room of Requirement, in it’s storage room form - I don’t know if you’ve ever been in there when it’s filled with people’s stuff - anyway, I got Hide back at the end of last year. I felt pretty bad, actually, because I’d forgotten all about it, but Cedric reminded me when we were talking about what living together in one home would be like. He’d kept his the whole time.” Harry smiled, looking chagrined and said, “I hate to think what Hagrid would say if he knew.” 

“Or Charlie,” Neville put in.

Harry clapped a hand to his forehead and laughed. 

“ _Charlie_! Merlin, he’d be _raving_ if he knew how I neglected my dragonet so severely.” 

“I mean, to be fair, it would have been much worse if it was an actual dragon,” Neville said reasonably. 

Harry pointed at Neville emphatically and said, “Yes! Thank you! That’s what I told Cho, but she loves to berate me for my lack of empathy for life-like creatures. I know she’s joking but I do feel a bit bad as it is.” 

Neville chuckled at Harry’s forlorn countenance and Harry’s expression cleared as he grinned back at him. At that moment a loud _crack_ sounded behind them as Draco Apparated into the room, holding Cho’s camera. 

“ _Accio_!” said Harry quickly, grabbing his wand off the bed and pointing it at the camera. Draco looked annoyed but Neville thought he also detected the merest hint of glee among his pointed features as the camera zoomed out of his hands and into Harry’s. 

“We’re not even close to being done with our cards, and Cho specifically said that taking pictures was to be the last step. You know she doesn’t like people messing with her camera,” Harry remonstrated.

“Says the person who just forcibly flew it across the room,” Draco replied with a satisfied smirk. 

“In any case, Cho said everyone else has already used it so we can hold it for a while, _provided we’re careful_.” Draco rolled his eyes, drawing out the last of the sentence in an imitating fashion, and Neville guessed he was referring to Cho. 

“These cameras don’t come cheap, you know, and it’s very nice of her to let any of us use it at all,” Harry said, placing the camera gently on the dresser.

“I’ve always wanted to have one myself,” Neville chimed in, feeling an odd compulsion to remind them of his presence. Draco looked at Neville, then turned abruptly to return to his corner, sitting down cross-legged, and resumed working on his card. Neville noticed a slight pinkness on the back of Draco’s neck, and grinned in spite of himself. Harry shook his head, looking slightly bemused, and returned to his cards. Neville looked down at his own parchment, carefully dipped his quill into the pot of ink, and attempted to render something that could pass as a cauldron. 

As he drew it, familiar feelings of trepidation and resentment filled him as his mind reflected back on the horrible treatment he had received in Potions. He decided that this apple tree would be growing through the cauldron, and drew thick roots sprawling out from the bottom of the pot and a wide trunk sprouting upwards, branching out into great flowering limbs that hung heavily laden with apples. He surveyed his work, finding somewhat to his surprise that he was pleased with how it had turned out, and decided that he would not colour it in after all, as he didn’t trust himself to do so neatly. He examined it more and thought that while it did look nice, a black ink drawing seemed a bit too formal. He decided that adding colour just to the apples would be a nice touch. His first thought was to colour them green but then decided if this was to be the only spot of colour on the card, he might as well make it more exciting, and asked Harry if he could use some of the colour-changing ink. Harry passed the bottle to him and he dropped spots of ink onto each of the apples he had drawn, smiling broadly as he watched them slowly changing colours, none of the apples the same colour at the same time. Neville passed the bottle back with a word of thanks to Harry and considered what to write. Now that the time had come he felt very resistant to recording such childish accomplishments as Draco’s Quidditch position. He considered the cauldron he had drawn, rent by the roots of an apple tree. He thought about legacies, and how they were still shaping theirs. He thought about how violent legacies could be overgrown by promising, new intentions.

Draco Malfoy

he wrote.

Future Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

He paused, wondering what he might write that could tie into apple trees, and then smiled with satisfaction and wrote:

Soon to be planting the seeds of knowledge among new generations of students

Neville remembered Dean telling him in their second year about a Muggle tradition that involved gifting teachers with apples. He imagined teaching at Hogwarts alongside Draco - wondered what Draco’s reaction would be if he were to give him an apple on the first day of term. Smiling absently, Neville looked over at Draco and saw that he was hunched over, writing furiously, the back of his neck pinker than Neville had ever seen it. Neville was overcome by a warm wave of affection for Draco and in his mind’s eye, almost without his bidding, he imagined walking over to that corner and drawing Draco’s face into his for a kiss.

CLICK!

There was a sudden flash of light as the shutter of Cho’s instant camera clicked on the dresser. Harry and Neville jumped and shouted in surprise, then coughed on the thick blue smoke which was billowing from the camera. Harry grabbed Hide, who had jumped from the moon dust vine onto the camera, inadvertently taking the photograph, and stood up, holding Hide in one hand and the camera in the other. 

“We can’t go wasting these photos!” he said, voice shaking from shock-induced adrenaline and suppressed laughter. 

“Come on, you’re going to join Seek.” And he carried the dragonet and the camera away into Cho and Cedric’s adjoining bedroom. 

Neville’s heart was pounding as much from the shock the loud interruption had caused as from the nature of the thoughts which had been interrupted. He chanced a look at Draco and flushed when he found Draco gazing at him with a small smile on his face. Draco started slightly when Neville caught his eye and cleared his throat. 

“I, uh, I’ve finished your card if…if you’d like to receive it.” 

His cheeks were pink and he appeared embarrassed in the extreme, which Neville found endearing and promising, and he felt caught in a hopeful sort of tension as he considered the possibility that Draco might actually have feelings for him. After all, there was no reason that Neville could see for Draco to be so nervous giving Neville an entirely platonic card.

“Oh! Thanks. I, uh…I’m not entirely done with yours yet-” he stuttered, realising that Draco seemed to have written more of a letter than a short biography. 

“That’s perfectly alright. I don’t mean to rush you. I just fear that if I don’t give you this now I’ll lose my nerve and destroy it along with all other evidence of my feelings. So please, if you will.” 

He made this last remark with his eyes screwed shut and a small jerk of his outstretched hand holding the card. Neville stood in stunned silence for a half-second, then approached him slowly and reached for the card. Draco opened his eyes as their fingers touched and Neville held his breath as he stood looking into his grey eyes, wide and expressive, expansive and searching. He felt as though he were suspended in the eye of a storm; the world was closing around the two of them; they were drawing closer and closer to each other and though they were already very close it seemed to take an age for each to finally reach the other. The kiss was hesitant, soft, and careful. Draco drew back almost immediately and whispered, “Are you sure… do you want this?” Neville felt as though he had just drunk firewisky - his throat searing from the tears which were welling up inside him. He felt simultaneously giddy and somber, as well as a whole host of other emotions too complex for him to identify. He stared deep into the grey eyes before him and knew that while he didn’t know exactly what ‘this’ was, that that ‘this’ held many daunting, and for the present, unimaginable possibilities; yet he knew unequivocally at that moment that he did. 

“Yes,” he said, voice constricted with emotion. 

Draco’s features were transfigured with joy; his eyes shone and the smile which graced his face was brighter than any Neville had seen on him. Neville returned the smile and it was then that tentative footfalls sounded from the adjacent room. The next moment, Harry entered, looking sheepish but happy.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but there isn’t a door between these rooms and I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m glad I did hear, though, because I think it’s safe to give you both this.” 

In his hand he held a photograph. 

“It’s the photo that Hide took. Draco, you don’t have to worry about unrequited feelings. Same goes for you, Nev.” 

Looking at them both with great fondness, Harry handed over the photograph and they bent their heads to examine it together, bursting into embarrassed and relieved laughter when they saw it. Cho’s camera had captured the moment when Neville had thought about kissing Draco, and Neville's photographic self performed just as he had envisioned - walking over to Draco in the corner of the room and kissing him. Neville was pleased to see Draco’s photographic self respond enthusiastically to the kiss, and though he had just kissed Draco in real life, it felt strange to watch representations of them going at it with such gusto. A hot surge of mortification rushed through him as he realised that Harry had watched this with his own eyes. It was in some ways worse than if Harry had walked in on them actually kissing, due to the degree of passion in the kiss with which their photographic selves were engaged. Neville turned the photo over and held it at his side, not wanting particularly to look at Harry or Draco, but feeling slightly better for knowing that he was not alone in his embarrassment. 

“I’m glad you guys figured things out on your own; I was worried I was going to have to keep it all to myself that you both fancied each other, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.” 

Draco laughed and walked over to hug Harry, who hugged him back, looking surprised but happy. 

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, releasing him and extending his hand. 

Harry laughed then, his face expressing delighted satisfaction, and shook Draco’s hand graciously. 

"I'm so happy for you two. Should I not say anything to the others for now?” 

Neville needed time to figure out how this was going to work and what it would entail, and he didn’t feel prepared to let anyone else in on that process just yet. Draco looked as nervous and uncertain as Neville felt. Neville smiled at him as reassuringly as he could manage and replied, “Let’s keep it between us for the time being.” 

“Okay. Well, I’m afraid I’ve been a bad host; I’ll go see how some of the others are doing.” 

Harry departed, and Neville knew he had done so in order to give them some privacy. Neville chuckled awkwardly and Draco said, “I suppose the business of your reading my card isn’t such a pressing matter after all.” 

“I’d still like to read it!” Neville exclaimed; he was, in fact, quite eager to do so. Draco was looking more and more flustered by the minute. 

“I’m...honestly somewhat embarrassed to show it to you now. Will you promise not to laugh, or, at least, not to tease me for its contents?” 

“Of course I won’t tease you!” Neville said protestingly, upset that Draco could consider that being a possibility with him. 

“I’m sure whatever you wrote I’ll like very much.” 

Draco laughed, swallowed thickly, and said, “I went through several drafts before arriving at the one currently visible. I magicked away a good deal of what I wrote, so if you want a laugh you can review my impassioned ravings that didn’t make the final cut.” 

Neville smiled, raising his eyebrows with interest.

“Give it here, then.” 

Draco hesitantly handed over the parchment covered in his elegant scrawl. Glancing once more at Draco’s anxiety-ridden countenance and attempting a reassuring smile, Neville looked back down at the card to read the words he had been so curious about.

Dear Neville,

You were right when you told me in our first year that you were worth twelve of me. You’re worth so much more, actually - it doesn’t do to compare. I’ve been sitting here agonising over what to write - I customarily plan these things out meticulously but I’ll never get it finished if I carry on this way so I’ve decided to simply write what I’m thinking and see what comes of it. It was good of Harry to have us all make cards for each other. He asked Cho to present the idea like it had been hers, but he was actually the one to suggest it after Cho and Cedric decided they wanted to throw a celebration in his honour. I’m grateful to them for welcoming me into their home. They are very good friends to me, and I needed their friendship more than I had realised. Your friendship would be nice. I’d like for us to be friends. I know that I treated you horribly in the past and I know apologising won’t make up for my behaviour but I am sorry. I won’t ask you to forgive me for my actions but I would like the chance to get to know you better. I appreciate the conversation we had today; I’d like to have many more - I’d like to spend more time with you and I hope that’s not something you’re averse to. I would be so much more anxious about giving this to you if you weren’t also making a card for me, because the point of this activity is to do nice things for one other and I highly doubt you would give me anything mean-spirited. I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body. That’s not to say you lack fierceness. You’re definitely bolder than I am. Whatever you decide, I want you to know that it’s alright; not ideal, of course, but I would be okay if you don’t want to share my company after this - I'm not alone anymore. I don’t want you spending time with me simply out of pity - I only want you to spend time with me if it’s something you want for yourself. I hope that it is.

Yours most sincerely,

Draco

Neville’s eyes had begun to water and he was at a loss for words. No one had ever written him anything remotely like this before. He tried to say something, to thank Draco, but merely managed to utter strangled gibberish. Draco chuckled wetly. Neville, looking up at him, saw that he had tears in his eyes as well.

“You won’t be so touched when you see the things I wiped. Here; _Revelio_ ,” he said, pointing his wand at the paper, and glowing white words appeared, superimposed over the black ink of Draco’s final presentation. There were several short strings of words that were scattered among the final draft but the first was the longest and ran:

Do you remember saying that? I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember thinking that twelve was such a specific number you must have given it serious consideration and had determined very methodically that that was your precise worth in relation to me. And then after you delivered that absolutely devastating remark, Ron proceeded to beat me up while you somehow managed to keep both Crabbe and Goyle pinned down! How about we call a rematch, no need to involve anyone else, let’s just have at it with each other fuck me

Neville gasped and Draco laughed, sounding nervous. 

“Not quite as saccharine as-.” 

His words were cut off by Neville, who had launched himself at Draco and was now kissing him voraciously. Draco stumbled slightly and caught hold of Neville’s waist to steady himself. They had barely begun to get passionate when there was a knock at the door and they broke apart, panting. Draco ran his fingers hastily through his hair and Neville simply stood where he was, grinning uncontrollably. The door opened a crack and Harry’s voice reached them from behind it. 

“Everyone’s done with their cards so we’re going to see what people’s attributes are - don’t worry,” he added in a whisper loud enough for them to hear. “You don’t have to share your cards if you don’t want to. I wasn’t able to get through all of mine in time but everyone said they would rather I take the time to make really excellent Chocolate Frog cards for each of them and that they’re willing to wait for top quality, so I can finish them later.” 

“We’re meeting back in the sitting room,” he continued, his voice returning to a normal volume.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Harry shut the door and they heard him retreat down the hallway. 

Neville giggled and Draco put a hand over his eyes, chuckling weakly. 

“What I made doesn’t really resemble a Chocolate Frog card - most of my time making it was spent on an illustration - I only wrote a couple things,” Neville told Draco. Struck by a sudden inspiration, he said excitedly, “Though, hang on, let me just add one more-” Whirling around to fetch his parchment, Neville wrote underneath his previous words:

Bloody brilliant kisser

“Are you going to show the others?” Draco asked. 

“No. This is just for you. But we’d better get to the sitting room now - I’ll give you your card after.” 

“After?” Draco half-whispered, a thousand questions in his eyes, and Neville’s heart felt full with the promise of adventure, of a great, beautiful, unknown future with infinite possibilities. He smiled wide, his eyes shining. 

“Ever after.”

*~*~*

It was midnight and Draco lay awake, staring at the moon dust vine on the dresser while Harry snored gently across the room. The curtains were drawn and it was quite dark, but the plant glimmered with some inner reservoir of light. Draco got out of bed and put on his dressing gown. He slipped his wand into a pocket and walked over to the dresser. Picking up the plant, he tread as softly as he could out of the room and into the sitting room. Adjusting the pot so it rested securely in one arm, he took Cho’s camera from the table still laden with the unused parchment, quills, and ink bottles, and walked into the kitchen. The moon shone brightly through the stained glass window, casting the room in jeweled splendour. It was exquisitely beautiful, and Draco wished Neville was there to see it. The plant seemed to stretch and pulse with energy as it absorbed the colourful light. Draco set the pot down on the kitchen counter and withdrew his wand. 

“ _Muffliato_ ,” he whispered, waving it at the doorway. He wanted to make sure he avoided waking the others. Neville had been the last guest to leave, staying talking with Draco until ten, at which point he’d apologised, and said he’d really better be going. He had kissed Draco good night, and Draco didn’t think he’d ever experienced such potent happiness before in his life.

Neville had told Draco all about the moon dust vine and showed him the caring instructions which he’d written down for them to refer to. Reading the inscribed incantations, Draco carefully waved his wand in a sweeping motion, tracing two arcs in the air, murmuring, “ _Luxinvia_ ” as he did so. A silvery path glittered in the wake of his wand tip, which the vine began to follow. Draco set down his wand and quickly grabbed the camera. Taking aim, he pressed down and the shutter closed with a loud CLICK, engulfing him and the moon dust vine in a cloud of blue smoke. Coughing, Draco set the camera back on the counter, hoping that the photo would turn out well. Withdrawing it anxiously, he broke into a smile as the picture came into view. The camera had captured the graceful weaving of the vine onto the sparkling heart-shaped trail, as well as the jeweled tones of the light shining around it that seemed to catch and hold onto the centers of each tiny flower. Draco went into the sitting room, selected a quill and an ink bottle, and returned to the kitchen, where he turned the photo over and inscribed on its back:

Dear Neville,

I feel so ridiculously happy. This was one of the best days I can remember in a very long time. I miss you. Is that ridiculous? It’s only been a couple hours since you left and I already miss your company. Ridiculous. I can face any boggart with you; I feel certain I could face anything if only I had you with me. This is so bloody soppy. I don’t care. I hope you don’t either, though given your reaction to my card, I’d say there’s a good chance I’m safe writing you the soppiest love letters in all the world. I hope to see you very soon.

Yours,

Draco 

*~*~*

Neville ascended the stairs to the flat above the pub as quietly as he could. When he entered the small bedroom, Aberforth was snoring in his bed. Neville smiled. He was fairly certain that Aberforth wasn’t a snorer, and he was grateful to him for pretending to be asleep, as he didn’t particularly feel like talking. He wanted to savour the memories of that party for as long as possible. He’d normally be asleep at this time, but he hardly felt tired. He wondered if Draco was asleep. Suddenly there was a sharp tapping sound and Aberforth jumped in his bed, then stretched and yawned to keep up the appearance of having been woken up. Neville went hastily to the window to let in the eagle owl which was rapping its beak against the glass, clutching a thin but firm piece of paper in its talons. The owl swooped in, landed on Aberforth’s blanket, deposited the paper, and took off once more into the night. The paper was small, rectangular, and white and covered with Draco’s handwriting. Neville’s eyes were drawn to the signature line - Yours, Draco - like a moth to a flame. He swallowed, and retrieved it from Aberforth’s bed, avoiding his gaze. Picking it up, he realised it was a photograph, of the kind produced by Cho’s camera. He turned it over and gasped, clapping a hand over his incredulous smile as he watched the majestic winding of the moon dust vine, twisting into a heart, the moonlight twinkling in and out of the small white buds that flowered as it stretched. 

“Draco? That wouldn’t happen to be Draco _Malfoy_ , would it?”

Neville started and turned his attention to Aberforth, who had been squinting at the writing and was now staring at Neville with sharp concern. 

“Oh…yeah, it is.”

“The one who said, ‘I’m on your side’ to Death Eaters in the midst of warfare? Who’s house played host to a little torturing party for your friends?”

Neville winced. “Yes, but-”

“My brother,” Aberforth interrupted, his voice gruff, “was always getting letters in the night, when he was young like you. He was entranced, as you are now, by the fanciful passions of someone he thought was a friend. Lust for power, lustful power - it’s a dangerous combination. I just don’t want to see you hurt…as, as he was.” 

The old man looked down at his lap and twisted his hands together worriedly.

Neville was stunned. Aberforth had never entreated him to do anything, never given him serious advice, and had certainly never shared anything as deeply personal as that before.

Neville sat down on his bed across from Aberforth’s and said gently, “It’s true that Draco was a Death Eater. But he didn’t enter into that by choice. He’s living with Harry now, along with a couple others from our side. He’s making a real effort to distance himself from those forces.” 

Neville paused and finished softly, “He’s trying his best to be a good person, as I am. As I think most of us who go through war do.” 

Aberforth’s bright blue eyes filled with tears and he gazed at Neville for a long moment before whispering hoarsely, “You’re certain of him?”

“As certain as I am of myself.” 

They looked at each other and Aberforth finally nodded and sighed, relaxing his shoulders. Neville became aware of the tension in his own body and released it, sneaking another glance at the photo before looking back at the old man, who was now rubbing his eyes wearily.

“Well, tell me whatever you like about the party, but do me a favour and wait until tomorrow. I’d like to get some sleep now.”

Neville smiled gratefully.

“Okay. Good night.”

“G’night.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic originally ended with Draco's note on the back of the photograph that he sends to Neville. I wasn't terribly satisfied with concluding the story this way, but couldn't think of any alternatives, until I considered the suggestion a friend of mine offered - that Neville have a conversation with Aberforth. In addition to adding this final scene, I made some minor changes to the rest but nothing that alters the plot. My sincerest apologies to everyone who read this prior to these modifications. Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
